Finding the Way
by RaucousLaughter
Summary: Hermione wants to help the Weasleys heal, but she's not sure how. After the safe return of her parents she finds herself home with them and feels a little lost. She knows she wants to return to Hogwarts in Autumn, but Ginny does not. Can she, with the help of Ron and Harry, convince Ginny that the good memories outweigh the bad? Will she find a new meaning of home? R/Hr & H/G
1. Chapter 1

**__Written for the Canon-Quote competition by lilAzIaNpride24 The following are the prompts that inspired this chapter:**

"_**Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living and above all, those who live without love.' " - J.K Rowling (Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows)**_

_**"Til' there's nothing left standing, nothing left of yesterday." - "Blown Away" by Carrie Underwood**_

_**Prompt "Safe"**_

Hermione stood alone in the garden of the Burrow, the early morning sunlight washing over her, warming more than her skin. Watching the light dance over the horizon in that familiar place brought indescribable joy to her heart, gave her comfort. Birds flitted through the trees twittering away, truly carefree and for the first time in a long time, Hermione too felt carefree. Finally she was safe and so were many of her loved ones. She felt sorrow knowing that those who had perished in battle would never know the feeling of security she now felt, but it was what they had died for. But she remembered Harry telling her and Ron what Dumbledore had said to him while he was "dead."_ 'Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living and above all, those who live without love,' _he had said. She had to admit it did bring some comfort. Those on their side had died for something, but how many wasted years had Voldemort and the Death Eaters spent with so much hate in their hearts. They'd died for nothing. After her anger, she found there was pity.

"You're up early." Hermione turned to see her mother enter the garden, a steaming cup of tea in her hand. Hermione didn't want to tell her the reason she was up early. The dream.

"Yes, Ginny was snoring," she lied.

"Ah," her mother said smiling. "Would you like some tea too, dear? I'll go back to the kitchen and get you some."

"That would be lovely," replied Hermione, turning back from her mother's gaze. Truthfully she still wanted to be alone, a desire that made her feel incredibly guilty considering that she hadn't seen her mother for the better part of a year. When they'd arrived at the Burrow the day after the battle, she'd been surprised and overjoyed to see her mother and father sitting on the sofa with Crookshanks stalking between them. The sight of them had blown her away, rendered her speechless. She'd fully expected to journey to Sydney with Ron in order to track them down. She'd agonized about the difficulty of reversing the spell she'd put on them, the anger they'd feel in realizing she'd wiped their memories clean of her so she could go off and fight a war. But Kingsley Shacklebolt had already done all that. He had taken the liberty of Apparating to Australia and bringing them back to her. He'd already explained the gravity of the fight against Voldemort, informed them of her role in it, extolled her for her bravery and her prudence in keeping them safe. She saw distinct pride in his eyes as he watched their tearful reunion and to her relief, no words of anger passed between them at all, only those of overwhelming joy.

"Young Mr. Weasley told me what you did," Kingsley had said to her later, in private. "He knew you'd want to know they were safe as soon as possible, and _I _knew that meant you two would fast be off to the other side of the world. But you need time to rest. So we decided I'd go collect them for you. They were a bit leery of traveling by magic at first, and understandably so, but I reassured them and they agreed they'd do anything to see you as quickly as possible."

"I really don't know what to say...well, I do...thank you...but still, how can that suffice?"

"They've already been taken to St. Mungo's for an examination and there was no damage. Your spell was solid and easily undone." When words failed her she hugged Kingsley tight, tears spilling from her eyes. "Don't thank me, thank Weasley. It was his idea...mostly." And just like that, Kingsley had passed her over to Ron who shrugged like it was nothing, all humility, and she'd embraced him with gratitude.

"Ouch!" Hermione exclaimed, brought out of her reverie by a garden gnome who'd nicked her toe.

"You all right, darling?" asked her mother, returning from the kitchen with Hermione's cup of tea.

"Silly little blighters...garden gnomes," she explained.

"Oh, the life you lead..." said Dr. Granger looking around in wonder at the gnomes.

"Shall we sit?" asked Hermione.

"Yes, I think that would be nice." They took their tea to the little table that stood under the cover of a birch tree and made themselves comfortable. Hermione could hardly believe she sat sipping tea with her mother. It felt fragile and unreal, like a dream. _A dream._ The thought made Hermione's spirits sink and though she tried to hide it, her mother noticed her sullen look.

"Do you want to talk about it? Can you...with me?" Hermione wanted desperately to tell her everything, about the Horcruxes, and Bill and Fleur's wedding, how it had been infiltrated, how the darkness had descended around them and they'd had to act quickly...about how Ron had comforted her so much that first night they were all alone, the three of them, about the locket, about Ron's leaving, his return, the snatchers, Greyback...Malfoy Manor. That's where it stopped...what she couldn't say, why she couldn't say any of it...because it all led to there, to the moments she relived each night in sleep. The battle she could explain, the kiss she'd shared with Ron in a fit of passion, how Harry had emerged victorious after seeming dead. But she didn't. Instead she shook her head and apologized, looking down at her teacup to avoid the look of hurt in her mother's eyes.

"Not yet..." she said. "You really aren't angry with me?"

"You are considered of-age in the magical world...it's no longer for us to tell you what to do. Of course we wish you hadn't had to act in such an extreme manner, but we would have done the same for you, had the situation been reversed. You've experienced things we can't imagine...and we trust you acted in the only way you could." The speech almost sounded rehearsed. Perhaps her mother had practiced what to say to her. Hermione noted that she hadn't actually answered the question.

"It was the only way..." the started, cut off by the sight of Ron, who emerged from the house, yawning, hair a mess, concern in his eyes. He'd come to comfort her in the middle of the night, after the dream, when Ginny'd fetched him from his room. Hermione had not been well and he'd held her, reminded her of what was real, that he wouldn't let anything happen to her. It was clear now, that he had been unable to sleep much after that. He hid it well, attempting to look wide-awake, and as had happened often since their kiss in the Room of Requirement, she felt an outpouring of love for him. She hated to see that look of concern on his face coupled with the pain she knew he felt for the loss of Fred. Amidst the chaotic aftermath and the time they'd been able to spend alone together, he seemed to have almost forgotten his brother's death, but now, back at the Burrow, there was no escaping the vacant spot left by George's twin.

Now that Hermione's parents were indeed safe and sound, she ought to devote her attention to helping Ron grieve. She wanted to be there for him, however he needed her. But her damn dreams! Instead, he was still the one consoling her.

It was the same every night_. _

_ She lay sprawled on the cold marble floor of Malfoy Manor, her skin buzzing from the endless rounds of the Cruciatus Curse. Bellatrix Lestrange's high-pitched, maniacal laughter echoes through the empty halls. Then Ron and Harry are there before her, bound with invisible ropes, writhing in agony. Their screams tear her apart as she lay there helpless, motionless, broken. The look in Ron's eyes tell her everything, that to him she appears dead and for a moment he loses all hope, there's nothing left for him to fight with, and that's when Bellatrix strikes. Physical pain rips through her body once more as Bellatrix tortures her while simultaneously performing the killing curse on Ron and touching her Dark Mark in victory. Hermione watches the light leave Ron's eyes, knowing the last image he's seen is that of her lying still on the ground. Within no time, Voldemort emerges and murders Harry instantly. All the while, she hears the voices of her parents, Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Harry, Professor Lupin, Sirius, Ginny, Dumbledore, and others taunting her, berating her for her failures, telling her how she's disappointed them. Then Voldemort raises his wand to her..._

She'd wake in a cold sweat, crying, shivering, screaming. One minute Ginny stood over her panicking and then Ron was there, warm and afraid, but convincing her she was safe. It wasn't just the images in the dream that terrified her, but the feelings that accompanied them. They always felt so real and she was both in her body and above it, seeing the scene from every angle.

"How'd you sleep?" she asked Ron, even though she knew the answer. He had his own nightmares too. She'd heard his cries the first night, but he'd refused to talk about them. She was grateful Ginny had thought of putting a muffliato charm on the room where her parents slept, so they wouldn't hear the despair that wracked the Burrow. That would be no welcome for them. But thanks to Ginny, as far as the Grangers knew, all was well.

"I've slept better, if I'm being honest," he said. "Ghoul kept knocking on the ceiling." He shot Hermione a meaningful look and she smiled to reassure him that she was completely fine now. Mornings were the easiest, best times.

"What an odd creature," mused Hermione's mother. She and her husband were both fascinated by every aspect of the Burrow, including the ghoul. Hermione knew that the ghoul still sported some spots from when he'd been a stand-in for a Spattergroit-stricken Ron. He wore them quite proudly, as far as she could tell. Her mother was about to speak when they saw George coming out into the garden. It was the first time he'd emerged from his room in days. Returning to the Burrow had been hardest on him, every corner reminding him of Fred.

"George, care to join us?" said Hermione, gesturing to an empty seat at the table. Ron looked at his brother with sadness, trying to guage how he was today. George nodded and moved slowly towards them. Dr. Granger had no idea what to say. Hermione could see the discomfort growing within her.

"I'll go and get you a cup dear...and the teapot," she said, turning to leave her daughter alone with Ron and George.

"How are you?" Hermione asked George softly. Ron looked at the ground, as if hoping to avoid the blow, if the answer turned out painful.

"Better," answered George and he looked like he meant it. "I'm better than yesterday, worse than I was two days ago, and about the same as I was on Monday. But I felt I needed some basic human interaction..." he smiled slightly, attempting a joke.

"We're happy to see you," said Hermione. Lately she'd been the liaison between Weasley family members, when looking at each other caused them to choke up and lose their will to speak. Nothing would be the same for them. They each tried to hold on to normalcy, keep from falling into their grief, but Fred's death had made them all, at different points feel as though they'd lost the battle. Their family had been torn apart and sometimes they felt had nothing left standing, nothing left of the yesterday, the world they'd known when their family had been whole. Hermione grieved for them, wishing she could do them a better service than merely washing up dishes or finishing forgotten tasks. She knew part of their attempt at the ordinary was because of her, Harry, and now her parents. Mrs. Weasley especially didn't want them to see how upset she was, but Hermione had accidentally overheard a conversation between her and Ginny, where they'd both been crying. It was like walking on eggshells at the Burrow and now seeing George for the first time in days, she felt the fragility was palpable.

"I reckon I'll be up for a go on the broom later," he said addressing Ron, ignoring Hermione's tender remark completely.

"Okay, yeah," said Ron, his face lighting up. "I'm sure Ginny and Charlie'll be up for it." Hermione was happy to be ignored. The way Ron beamed at his brother warmed her heart. She knew this was exactly what he needed. Ron had yet to mention to George that he wanted to help with the shop. It was too soon, he knew. He didn't want George to take it the wrong way, as though he was attempting to take Fred's place. He only wanted to be of service. If a sibling broom ride or a Quidditch scrimmage was what George required today, then Ron was more than happy to oblige.

Ginny however, was in the throes of an argument with her mother. Their tea was interrupted by a fuming Mrs. Weasley mumbling about her stubborn daughter. Molly cleared away their tea things without even asking if they were finished and she hadn't even noticed George sitting there. Hermione's mother stood to go help Mrs. Weasley in cleaning up the dishes while the rest of them were left to wonder what had happened. Ginny stormed out moments later, still in her pajamas, eyes red around the edges, her red hair a mess.

"I can't believe she expects me to go back to Hogwarts...after everything...well, I won't..." Ginny stopped short as she saw George. It seemed to be one of the days that she couldn't look at him, so she stormed past them. "Tell Harry I've gone to the pond," she said, not looking back at them. George stood as if to follow her, but decided not to.

"She can't look at me without crying sometimes," he said, though Hermione and Ron already knew that all to well. "Well, how does she think I feel when I look in the mirror." With that he threw down his napkin and went back inside, Hermione's hope that the Weasleys might get to spend a few moments together free from sadness disappeared as quickly as it had come.


	2. Chapter 2

**"_You place too much importance... on the so-called purity of blood! You fail to recognize that it matters not what someone is born, but what they grow to be!' " - J.K Rowling (Harry Potter And The Goblet of Fire)_**

**_"Slowly now I'm broken down, and I am wearing thin." - "Love Found Me" by New Heights_**

**_Home_**

After several weeks at the Burrow, the Grangers decided the time had come for them to return to their home and to bring Hermione with them. Of course, she would go, but if she could have chosen, they all would have stayed put. Truly, she felt just as "at home" with the Weasleys; they were her family too, now more than ever. Her parents knew that, but Hermione didn't want to upset them, especially not after what she'd already put them through. She knew they'd already stayed at the Burrow longer than they would have liked. If circumstances had been different, they would have viewed their stay as a lovely holiday in the magical world, but seeing as they'd just returned from abroad and from under the clutches of a memory spell, they were keen to get back to normal.

It would be strange to sleep in her old bed again. A comfort, to be sure, to be back in her childhood home, but she worried how she'd fare without Ron. She'd grown accustomed to sleeping near him over the past few months, save when he'd left her and Harry for those awful, empty weeks. Those were dark days she chose not to remember. Ever since she'd discovered how the Horcrux had tormented Ron, the lies it had fed him (and having destroyed one herself), she no longer blamed him. Really, she'd forgiven him as soon as he'd returned, she just hadn't wanted him to know it right away. Though at the time, the weeks without him had seemed to never end, in the grand scheme of their long journey, he'd been absent very little. And now, since the war had ended, they'd spent every night together. Her parents, of course, were unaware of that fact and even Mrs. Weasley held her tongue. It was her house and she allowed it, so that was that. Hermione knew at home, the rules would be different. She realized she'd been assuming Ron would come with her and maybe that was folly, but the thought of going anywhere without him...well, she just didn't think she was ready for it after all they'd faced.

"Suppose someone else bought our house?" Hermione's father mused over an ale. He'd bought a muggle brew in town that made Mr. Weasley positively giddy.

"No. They couldn't have done. I bewitched it. If muggles looked at it, they only saw a boarded up pharmacy."

"Clever," said Mr. Weasley, taking in a sip of the ale. Her father looked at her with an odd expression. Her mother's eyes looked watery. Hermione felt a twinge of guilt for saying 'muggles' in front of her parents, something she'd never felt before. But after the war, it just seemed...wrong. Now the word 'muggles' felt almost as bad as 'mudblood." Of course it was not meant to be derogatory, especially not the way Mr. Weasley would say 'Oh, bless these muggles,' or some other such affectionate thing. But the Malfoys, Bellatrix, and other Death Eaters would pronounce the word as though it were a disease. Voldemort would have purged the world of muggles had he been victorious, or at least used them as pets or slaves. Hermione nearly sickened thinking of it, she could feel her insides twisting. The Death Eaters had all placed too much importance on the purity of blood. Voldemort and his followers thought blood-status was the great determiner of worth, that pure-bloods were better, more deserving. Hermione knew that was utter rubbish. It mattered not how one was born, but what they grew to become. The Death Eaters had never recognized that fact, instead giving into the lies. S She recalled the portrait of Sirius's mum that hung at Grimmauld Place. Mrs. Black been no true Death Eater, though she'd spawned them and had been just as deluded. That way of thinking was dangerous. Some considered it tradition, but Hermione called it fear of the unknown.

Hermione now felt so disconnected to the child she was who lived in both worlds. Now she was without doubt a full-grown witch and she was hyper aware of how different their worlds could be. When she'd been at school, it was just that, she was at school. Now she'd been immersed completely in the magical world. She'd gone to drastic measures to keep her parents safe from a threat they knew nothing about, could know nothing about, and there were still many secrets she needed to keep from them. It was an odd feeling. She'd always skirted around telling them of the dangers they'd faced during their years at Hogwarts, but it had never quite bothered her until now. It only added to her guilt, knowing that she wanted to return to to school with all her heart. Thinking of Hogwarts made her think sadly of Ginny, who was now the one who'd locked herself away in her room.

"I can't go back to Hogwarts, Hermione," Ginny had told her in tears after she and her mother had stopped shouting at one-another one afternoon. "It's where..._he_ died." Ginny hadn't spoken Fred's name since the funeral. "I know you want to go back, and I'm all for it, if you think it's right for you...but you weren't there last year. After what we had with the Carrows..."

"Professor McGonagall..."

"I know what you'll say... Nothing like that will ever happen again...it'll be just like old times...but that's just it. Not for me it won't. It can't. It can never be what it was. And I'm sorry, but I have the chance to train with the Harpies...I'm going to take it! You have to start young in the pros, look at Viktor!" Hermione had no good argument. She knew education was important to her, but not necessarily to others, at least a formal education. She certainly realized now that there were many different types of educations, and different kinds of intelligence. It must be terribly hard for Ginny to consider returning, she knew that. Selfishly, though, Hermione knew she wanted her friend there with her. Harry and Ron wouldn't go back, that was certain. Possibly Luna would consider it, being a Ravenclaw. She wouldn't press Ginny, though, not now when her grief over Fred was at its zenith.

"She'll come around," said Ron, encouraging her. "You'll wear her thin soon enough and then she'll break down. Slowly perhaps, but she will. She's just having a rough time of it now."

"Well, maybe she should take the position with the Harpies..."

"She still can. Wasn't Viktor still in school _and_ playing professionally?" said Ron. "You know he was and so I. If they want her enough, they'll make allowances, they're always making special arrangements."

"Well, maybe you should talk to her."

"She's having trouble looking at me at the moment. It's not just George, anymore. Percy knocked on her door last night to bring her tea and she started crying. We all remind her of Fred." It took Ron a lot of strength to speak his fallen brother's name, Hermione knew.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. How selfish of me to be worrying about how lonely I'll be at Hogwarts, when it was my idea to go back. You have much more important things to worry about..."

"Hermione, you've been through a war too. It's okay for you to think about yourself for a change. I'm sure if you explained to Ginny why you want her at Hogwarts, she'd change her mind."

"Even if it's for selfish reasons?"

"Maybe. Just tell her how you feel," said Ron, pulling her to him and kissing her lightly. She smiled. She could hardly believe it was Ron telling her to express her feelings. The Ron of a year ago wouldn't have been so bold. But none of them were the same as they'd been last year.

"Will you come home with me? To my parents' I mean. I know it may be odd, and maybe you're not ready to leave the Burrow yet, but..."

"If you want me there, of course I'll come."

"I _need_ you there," she said sheepishly, embarrassed for some reason. She felt her face grow hot. "The dreams..." He hugged her tighter. "Do you think they'll ever stop?" she asked.

"I know they will."

"Thank you," she said, wondering how she'd breech the subject of Ron staying at their home with her parents. _They might require a bit of wearing down as well_, she thought.

But her mother was extremely understanding. Hermione didn't mention in detail her nightmares or Ron's, but she did explain that he comforted her...and that she still had troubles dealing with all they'd been through.

"I imagine there are challenges you faced that we can't help you with," said Dr. Granger with some sadness in her voice. "And I'm not so inexperienced in young love..." she said.

"Mum!" said Hermione, blushing.

"You just got together, you don't want to be separated...I understand that," her mother said giving her a hug. That was true, it was part of it. Ron worried he might have trouble getting his parents to let him go, but they said they understood as well, as did his siblings, though they all wanted him to Apparate back to see them at least once a day.

"Of course I will," he said. "It will just be for couple of weeks."

Hermione knew that after their nightmares subsided, she'd have to let him be alone with his family and she'd need to be alone with hers. Harry'd already said he wanted to return to Grimmauld place before Auror training began officially in August. Ginny had almost protested, but she knew he needed to be alone as much as she needed to be with just her family. These were all strange waters to navigate. None of them had ever had such experiences before. Still, as long as they all had each other, they'd find the way.

Indeed it was just as strange to return to her childhood home as she'd expected. It was just as she'd left it that day last July when she'd made her parents forget her. She found herself almost near tears as she entered the sitting room, thinking of that moment. So her spell had worked exactly right. The Grangers had become the Wilkins family, childless and anxious to move to Australia to make a new start of it. They hadn't packed their furniture, they'd decided to buy all new things. Hermione had known that if the Death Eaters were to come looking for her at that house, it needed to be in-tact, as though her parents were simply out for the day or on holiday. If it looked deserted, they'd know it figure out it was a ploy. Her mother gasped at the sight of the home she hadn't seen in year.

"It's clean," she said, wiping her finger along the mantle and catching no dust. Hermione wondered at that.

"Shacklebolt," Ron whispered, leaning in. Hermione thought she would like Kingsley as the Minister of Magic very much indeed, better than any they'd had so far during her lifetime. Upstairs in her bedroom, the bed was made, her school trunk lay at the foot of the bed, all as quiet and perfect as a museum.

"This is your room, eh?" asked Ron peering in, appraisingly. "Looks like you. What are these trophies?" he asked waltzing over to the dresser and picking up a small golden medal.

"All for academic achievement," she said. "Not from Hogwarts."

"You went to school before Hogwarts?" Ron asked incredulous.

"Yes of course. My parents didn't know I was a witch, I started out at primary school just like all my muggle peers. Harry did as well, you know."

"Oh yeah. I supposed I did know that, but...I've never really thought about it. So you've been in school for...

"Eleven years..."

"Eleven years...and you want to go back for another one. You amaze me. I reckon you were brilliant at all that as well..." he said examining all the trophies.

"I can't believe you've never been here," she said. "It's strange, but...I like it."

"It's brilliant!"

"Well, we'd better not stay in here too long, my parents..." Ron set down the last of the medals, looking around the room one last time.

"You could do with some color in here though...I'll give you one of my Cannons posters..." he teased.

"No thank you, Ron," she said play-punching him as they went back down the stairs. It was good to be home.


End file.
